Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Venezuela and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Cabaret Voltaire to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Blake Baxter,
Fad Gadget,
Donny Hathaway,
The Star Department,
Matthew Bourne,
Faraquet,
Quadrant,
Deakin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Organ,
Youth Brigade,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Detroit Cobras,
PIL,
The Victims,
Byron Stingily,
Goldenarms,
Dennis Brown,
Ponytail,
Avey Tare,
Jeff Lynne,
Sarah Menescal,
Tom Boy,
Colin Newman,
L. Decosne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pantaleimon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jandek,
John Coltrane,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Animal Collective,
Lou Reed,
a-ha,
Big Daddy Kane,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Cramps,
The Index,
Spoonie Gee,
The Fugs,
Erykah Badu,
Henry Cow,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Young Rascals,
UT,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lyres,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Juan Atkins,
China Crisis,
The Leaves,
The Skatalites,
Aaron Thompson,
Theoretical Girls,
Absolute Body Control,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.